The Criminal's Pet
by michelle1203
Summary: Jim Moriarty gets a live-in one, just like Sherlock. Although he does lose his temper at times, as long as she abides by three simple rules, he keeps her safe, happy, and well taken care of. What happens when she's given the chance to leave? Will she stay, or will she get out while she still has the chance? Contains mild abuse.
1. His Pet

My first Sherlock fic. I like Moriarty and I thought I'd take a whack at his hot and cold personality in terms of a "pet".

* * *

I rested my head on the back of the tub, and hummed along to the Amy Winehouse song playing through the sound system across the room. My thoughts ran to Jim. I ran my wet fingers through my hair and sighed. He would be home soon and hopefully he'd had a good day.

_Don't keep me waiting._  
_- JM_

Speak of the devil. He was on his way home and he would be expecting his afternoon cuppa. Thankfully, I'd already prepared a kettle for him with a tray of sugar, cream, and lemon just the way he desired. My phone pinged again with Jim's dwindling patience.

_Do you understand me, Nora?_  
_- JM_

_You will not be kept waiting. I understand, dearest._  
_- NR_

I didn't dare hesitate to reply. A week ago, I didn't reply to his text and paid for it when he arrived home. I touched a bruise on my shoulder and flinched when my phone alerted me of his reply.

_Good girl._  
_- JM_

I smiled.

Jim Moriarty had lured me in a year ago and now I was trapped in his web. I wasn't his girlfriend, nor he my boyfriend. We were…well, I wasn't sure exactly what we were, but we kept faithful to each other nonetheless. Our relationship, if one could call it that, was never built on love. Instead, it was fear. Jim made sure that he was four steps ahead, and that I knew he could kill me at anytime if he pleased. I realized quite quickly that Jim and Moriarty were two men in one. Although I called him Jim, I wasn't in a relationship with Jim. Jim cared. Jim loved. Most days, I was in a relationship with Moriarty. Moriarty ordered, manipulated, and dominated. Moriarty didn't give a flying fuck what happened to me, and Jim somewhat did. Likewise, Jim was the only reason why Moriarty hadn't killed me just yet.

Not a day went by that I didn't understand that I was the criminal's pet. I was here for his enjoyment. He played with me and took care of me, as long as I abided by three simple rules: be ordinary, be extraordinary as well so as not to bore him, and give him female companionship. I agreed without hesitation a year ago because he was attractive and I was in desperate need of extra money and a flat to kip in. (My flatmate had kicked me out to make room for her boyfriend, and my job at the local coffee shop wasn't worth much). Back then, I was ignorant of how difficult living life as Jim Moriarty's pet would prove to be.

Every day, I made sure I was fascinating by being an equal balance of ordinary and unusual. Being ordinary allowed me to be myself. I listened to my usual music, I walked and talked how I usually did. That part was a cinch. Being extraordinary, however, required me to constantly change myself. I went shopping for new clothes at least once a week because, more times than not, Jim would dispose of clothes that weren't interesting to him anymore. (Thankfully, he allowed me to keep my pair of old checkered boxer shorts and an oversized Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone shirt that I wore as pajamas my first night as his pet. He said it interested him how sentimental I was about a "ratty pair of boxers and a childish shirt").

With my style constantly changing, Jim made sure he was able to keep an interest in my body and the way it looked in different clothes. Even my hair underwent changes. I met Jim when my hair was a short, dirty blonde. He soon grew bored of that and I became a brunette, a blonde again, and now I am ginger with hair just past my breasts.

As for sex, Jim remained in control and it never, ever became boring. I did have to uphold my end of the agreement as his female live-in companion by purchasing certain clothes and adult toys that would keep him interested in me in the bedroom on days when my body alone wasn't enough for him. I spent my days doing as he asked, and he approved and continued to make his pet happy. However, the odd day did come about when Jim would not be happy with me. It could be his dislike of a bad dye job from the hairdresser, it could be a stressful client that he would project onto me, or it could be his overall disapproval of the clothes I purchased, or it could be all three.

Those were the days that Jim would lose his composure and have a field day with his pet, or it could be all three. Those were the days that were extremely painful and almost always left me with a scar. Regardless of his hot and cold personality, I'd grown to love Jim Moriarty very much. And though he never said it, I was certain that, in his own way, he loved me very much as well.

I sunk deeper into the water, listening to Amy and waiting for the sound of Jim's key in the door. "I told you I was trouble..."

"You know that I'm no good." The voice dripped with venom. I turned my head to the left to see Jim in the doorway. He grinned, "Hello, my darling Nora."

"Hello, dearest. How was your day?"

"The usual. A few boring people with their boring problems. But there was one...one...extraordinary person."

I nodded knowingly. Sherlock Holmes, the man he obsessed over. "The good doctor was with him, I take it?"

"Watson's very predictable," Jim rolled his eyes. "But that's what makes my pet different from Sherlock's. You're not predictable, are you, Nora? Well, aside from the music. And, you really ought to listen to someone other than Miss Winehouse, pet. I'm starting to think you're unhappy with our relationship...that you're being unfaithful to me. Which I know isn't true, _is it_?"

My lips curled into a smirk and I turned my head back to the faucet. I always found it funny how quickly jealousy would set Jim off. A few days ago, it was the way a man eyed me in the street. Today, it was a simple Amy Winehouse song about cheating. It was times like this that I enjoyed having the upperhand for a moment, even if it was in the form of an answer.

Jim unbuttoned his Westwood jacket. "You're not with anyone else, are you? You understand that you're _my_ pet?"

Humming in acknowledgment, I looked down at the remaining suds.

"I said, do you understand, pet?'

I snapped out of my reverie. "Relax, Jim. You mustn't be so jealous all the time. I understand that I belong to you, and you alone and _that_, dearest, is something _you_ must understand."

Jim crouched beside the tub before I realized how rude my statement was. "Nora..." his dark eyes glared into my hazels. "I'd advise you to watch your tone with me, or have you forgotten _who_ I am and just _what_ I can do to you?"

His hand dipped into the water and touched my inner thigh. I jumped at the feeling of his fingers against an oval-shaped scar no bigger than the size of my thumb left from skin graft surgery. I thought back to that night three months ago when I went out for my birthday. At the club, some man put his hands on my waist and ground himself against me while I was dancing. Jim, who was watching nearby, grabbed my hand and brought me straight home.

_"You're mine. You are my pet! Do you understand? Mine. Only mine, and you're not keeping to our agreement! Sherlock keeps the kind doctor on a loose leash...lets his pet do as he pleases. But darling...I believe you should know by now that I," his lips pressed roughly against my ear, "am not as nice as Mr. Holmes."_

_With a flick of his cigarette lighter, he touched the flame to my tights. I tried to wriggle away but he had me pinned against the wall. He came to his senses only when I'd screamed loud enough. My tights melted to my skin and soon my skin was on fire. Moriarty flashed back to Jim. He frantically put me out. I cried out. He panicked, realizing seriousness of what he'd done._

I didn't want to go through the surgery or feel pain like that again. Without hesitation, I carefully kissed him. Moriarty slowly faded to Jim. His greedy mouth took mine. His tongue forcefully entered my mouth and claimed me as his. I pulled away and stroked his cheeks with my thumbs. "I'm so sorry, Jim. I didn't mean it."

Jim searched my eyes. "Good girl." I knew he knew I was lying. I meant every word of it. I watched him stand straight and walk towards the bedroom. "Now, get out of the tub."

Doing as he said, I opened the drain and reached for the towel I'd left on the nearby hook. My heart pounded when I noticed it was missing. I swore in my head. Why did I have to snap at him like that?

"You won't be needing that pesky towel. Now, follow me, pet. I need to remind you who your _master_ is."

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Please review.


	2. Morning After

Thank you for all your reviews! I'm excited to continue this work. Note that Jim is going Jim, and therefore may be offensive. I apologize now if I'm offending anyone.

Also note that this work is also available on my AO3 account, just in case anything happens on here.

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I woke up at one in the morning to find Jim's arm draped possessively around my waist. Stirring, I readjusted my position slowly, careful not to wake my partner. Unfortunately, Jim noticed immediately. His hand gripped my hip.

"Where're you going, pet?" His voice was low and groggy.

"Nowhere," I curled into him and rested my head on his chest. "Just rolling over is all."

"Good..." his fingers toyed with my hair. "I chose the perfect pet."

I gave a contented smile. "And I the perfect master."

"Good girl."

When I woke up again, it was half past eight. I frowned at the lack of warmth. Being alone in our bed the morning after was something I was all too used to. Jim was the fuck and go type. Unless it was the rare occasion when we made love.

The last time we made love was the night I came home from my short stint in the hospital after he'd burned me. That night, Moriarty was nowhere to be found. That night, I got Jim. Jim took his time with me that night, both of us enjoying our slow and drawn out pleasure. He held me close when we finished, stroked my hair, kissed my neck, whispered how sorry he was, and how much he cared about me and didn't want to lose me. He never said 'I love you'...and he didn't have to.

_'Jim,' _I thought_, 'why did I get involved with you?'_

My neck and collarbone felt sore from the actions of Jim's mouth. I sat up and surveyed the damage. The down comforter and blankets were pushed off the bed and into the floor, the sheets were tangled, and there were only two pillows on the bed. Metal handcuffs were thrown on the floor as well. (Jim disliked the furry kind because they didn't leave 'decent bruises'). A silicone vibrator stood on the nightstand beside a Hitachi magic wand and a black blindfold. I ran a hand through my hair and pulled the sheets over my bare breasts. Jim and I certainly made a mess last night.

Mess.

Jim didn't use a condom. Hell, he never used prophylactics of any kind. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that I'd been keeping up with my birth control pills. Unfortunately, they were the only protection we used, and they weren't always reliable as I'd found out twice before.

Four months into being his pet, I'd had to get an abortion. Three months later, I had a pregnancy scare. As one would imagine, Jim wasn't particularly pleased. When we actually conceived the first time, he threw me into a wall, called me everything from 'fucking cow' to an 'idiotic twat', and wrapped his hands around my throat until I almost passed out. The time I had the scare, I only told Sebastian and he quickly rushed me to the doctor behind Jim's back. When Jim found out a couple hours later, he threatened Seb and pushed me down the stairs 'for good measure'.

Yes, I was extremely thankful that I'd taken my pill.

I carefully got out of bed, and swore loudly at the pain. Once I reached the mirror, my eyes widened at the sight of my naked body.

"Oh, fucking Christ!"

My neck and collarbone were covered in purple bruises and bites. My hair was a fiery mess around my face. Did I dare look at my bottom? I turned to the side and gasped. No wonder sitting up hurt so badly. My ass was covered in bruises that were an odd mixture of purple, red, and brown. I thought back to the repetitive swats Jim gave to me last night. Being 5'3" to his 5'8" made it easy for him to put me over his knee. My screams affirming that he was my master and I was his pet. He started with his hand, then a wooden ruler, and finally graduated to a riding crop. My breasts also fell victim to the leather tip of the crop, and I had bruises to show for it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy every moment of it. No wonder I'd lasted this long with Jim Moriarty.

'Dammit, what am I supposed to wear when you've marked me as yours? People are going to talk more than they already are.'

People were talking. Whenever Jim and I went out, he made sure I had at least one marking visible in a place where I wouldn't be able to cover it. One time, I had a black eye and stitches in my lip and no one even approached us. I received looks that screamed 'I'm going to call 999' or 'love, get out now' and 'leave him'. But no one dared call on the consulting criminal and I continued to stay with him.

"Miss..."

Sebastian Moran's voice startled me. I carefully placed my hands on my hips. Sebastian had seen me naked more times that I could count. Besides, he was loyal to Jim, and Jim made it very clear that I was off-limits.

"Seb, how am I supposed to go in public today? People will talk! I mean look at me!"

His eyebrows shot into his hair, "Seems that the boss really did a number on you last night? My apologies, Nor—."

"Nora!" Jim brushed past Seb and strode towards me, "Why are you standing in front of Sebastian without a stitch of clothing on? Not trying to seduce him, are you?"

I rolled my eyes, "You can't be serious."

Suddenly, our bedroom door shut. I swallowed hard. Sebastian had taken his leave of us. I was fair game.

Jim cupped my sex greedily, and began to slip his fingers inside me one at a time. I hissed as he punctuated his sentence with the entrance of each digit. "Oh, darling I am...one hundred percent...serious. I want you to know, Nora, that this is mine."

"Mori…" I squirmed the feeling of three of his fingers inside me. "Moriarty..."

He pumped his fingers in and out of me, "Know that if you dare share this with anyone, even Seb, I will tear the flesh off of both of you... I'm quite handy with a potato peeler..."

I realized then that I'd braced myself against our dresser, my legs opened for him. I was panting like a dog. I came to my senses and whimpered. "Yes...yes, Jim."

"Do you understand, pet?" His eyes narrowed and he removed his fingers.

I gasped.

"Get up."

I did as I was told. Jim smacked my bruised bottom and I cried out in pain. It took everything in my power for me not to slap him.

"Get dressed, we have reservations. Although..." Jim placed his fingers in his mouth, "I could just have you instead. So delectable...and practically dripping so early in the morning...you little slut. I barely touched you. Hmm, I think I'll save you for dessert."

* * *

"Sherlock, I'm surprised you haven't noticed."

The curly-haired man looked at his brother. "Noticed what? The pounds you can't seem to lose on the newest diet fad you're trying? Do yourself a favor and eat something other than turkey and ham. You're starting to smell like it."

Mycroft shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "No. I was referring to the company James Moriarty is keeping."

"Sebastian Moran?" Sherlock looked up from his magazine. "Have the two of them made it official yet? The markings on Moriarty's neck were quite disgusting to look at during our last encounter."

"I'll assure you those markings aren't coming from a man."

"A woman, then?" John questioned. "Surely there's no girl out there mad enough to sleep with him."

"There is one. Her name is Nora McNally, late-twenties, and lives with the consulting criminal."

"You're joking."

"I most certainly am not."

Sherlock, who now sat upright, narrowed his eyes at his brother. "How long?"

"A little more than a year."

It all made sense now. How could he have been so stupid? The purple bruises left behind on Moriarty's neck were just a hair too small to have belonged to Sebastian Moran. There was also that ginger hair on the back of Moriarty's suit during their encounter a few weeks ago. How careless his enemy was. Or was he? Maybe he wanted Sherlock to know about the girl. Moriarty was tough to follow, but this...this could change everything. If he could somehow find this girl and question her, oh, the things he could learn about his opponent.

Maybe that's exactly what Moriarty wanted. Perhaps this Nora was simply a pawn in his next grand game to kill Sherlock. Perhaps she wasn't and the consulting criminal actually loved her. Sherlock scoffed. How quaint and careless. He should go after her, find her, question her. But it would be so risky. What if she truly was an idiot? No, no, she was with Moriarty, maybe she wasn't as dimwitted as he believed. She couldn't be, in order to tolerate and keep up with him she'd have to be just as ahead as he was. In that case, she could be a trove of information. Oh, but what if Moriarty kept his home and work personas separate? If she honestly knew nothing, it would be the perfect trap for Sherlock to walk into. He shook his head. No. No. But it would be so worth it if he could get answers. He so desperately needed to get ahead of the criminal this time.

Sherlock's mind raced even faster.

John raised his coffee to his lips, "Are they together?"

"That remains to be unclear. From what I've gathered, while they live together and have been intimate for quite some time, I don't believe they are in a traditional relationship."

"Then why bother to inform us, if they're not together?"

"Don't you think, John?" snapped Sherlock. "Mycroft wouldn't have bothered to tell us about this girl if he didn't think we could use her as leverage against Moriarty. She may be an idiot but she's not completely useless. If we can get our hands on her...oh….Quickly, tell me what else you know about Nora McNally."

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	3. Shot of Dessert

**Disclaimer**: I only own Nora.

Happy New Year! Hopefully you all were able to watch the new episode. Just a reminder this fic is also on Ao3. Anyway, here's the next chapter!

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Moriarty quite literally saved me for dessert. We had almost finished eating at the restaurant, when Jim stood and reached for my hand. Curious about what he was up to, I took it. Without a word, he led me to the women's restroom. I began to wonder if the waiter would notice we had gone. I shook the thought from my head. Of course he would, but he wouldn't say a word. He would leave our food, items, and table alone until we returned. The customer was Jim Moriarty after all.

"Anyone in here get out now."

Moriarty's voice was authoritative. I watched as two women hurriedly ran past us and out the door. A crooked smile spread across his lips. I followed him to the sinks. Moriarty lifted me up and placed my bottom on the granite countertop. I hissed from the pain of last night's bruises. However, that immediately disappeared when he placed his mouth to my neck.

My eyes closed. "_Jim_..."

His tongue traced a mark from last night. His nimble fingers reached up my pencil skirt and pulled my knickers to my ankles. His hands pushed my pencil skirt up my hips. He spread my legs wide. I gasped. His pupils had dilated with want. I should've known I was dealing with Moriarty and not Jim. I watched his head disappear between my legs. The moment his tongue touched my clit, my head rolled back. A loud moan escaped my lips.

Jim stopped to gaze up at me, "Now darling Nora, don't make a fuss. We're in public. Not another peep from you, understand?"

I nodded, "Yes, Jim."

He continued and I bit my lower lip, trying desperately not to moan. His tongue entered me and I squirmed. I felt Moriarty's hands grab my hips, pinning me to his mouth. He worked quickly yet carefully. He knew just when to lick my clit or when to tease my entrance. I found myself getting close quicker than I'd like to. I took a fistful of his hair in my hands. I was so close. Moriarty stopped. My jaw slackened. He looked up at me, his nose, lips, and chin wet with my excitement. Moriarty stood up straight and placed his forehead against mine. His eyes bore into mine. He knew what he'd done and just what he was doing now. I was too close coming for his taste. Eager to please him and convince him to continue, I flicked my tongue out, giving a quick lick to the tip of his nose and chin before running my tongue against his lips.

"Good girl," Moriarty smiled. "I do believe you've won a prize."

He slid two fingers inside me and teased my clit with his thumb. I locked my ankles around his back, pulling him closer to me.

"You like that. Don't you, pet?"

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from screaming. His pace was quick and I found myself riding his fingers. I felt naughty. I felt like a schoolgirl who was masturbating secretly in the stalls. I bowed my head. With his free hand, Moriarty forced me to look up at him.

"Look at me, pet. I want you to see yourself in my eyes when you come. Don't be loud, darling. We are in public after all."

Not moments later, I couldn't look at his eyes and I couldn't be quiet any longer. I bit down on his shoulder and screamed into the fabric of his Canali suit. As I came down from my high, he slowed his fingers to a stop.

"Noisey little whore, aren't you?"

"Yes...Moriarty…." I sat up straight and tried to control my breathing. "Thank you...for that. That was outstanding."

I watched him remove his fingers from me and lift them to his mouth. He stuck them in his mouth, sucking and licking each digit clean as if I was his last meal. Once he was done, he frowned. "You're delicious, pet. But I fear I'm not quite satisfied."

Before I could ask him what he meant, Moriarty dipped between my legs, his tongue eagerly lapping my entrance. I covered my mouth with my hand and screamed into my palm as I endured aftershocks and almost came a second time. When he finished, he stood, wiped his mouth, and offered me his hand.

"Come, pet. I believe our table is still waiting for us."

I hopped off the counter and pulled up my knickers. After I righted myself, I noticed Jim staring at me, all hints of Moriarty melted for just a moment. I smoothed his hair down, then fixed my own. His eyes were still fixed on me.

"Darling," I chuckled, "what is it?"

He shook his head, "Oh, nothing. It's just...you're very beautiful when you come, Nora."

"Jim..."

He closed the gap between us, his lips capturing mine. Shocked, I stumbled backward a few steps until he pinned me against the wall. I kissed him back. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my body against him. He immediately pulled away.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nora," he shook his head. "I don't...I don't want to take you here."

I couldn't help but smile. Moriarty had no problem eating me here, but Jim didn't want to take me here. I never ceased to amaze me how much of a gentleman Jim could be. I silently wished I could see more of Jim at times.

"Let's go back home."

He grabbed my hand and led me out of the restroom. As we walked back to our table, I found myself getting nervous. Something felt wrong. Jim paid our bill and I got my purse.

"The car's waiting for us, Nora." Jim slipped his arm around my waist. "I'd imagine I could wait until we arrive home. But, after hearing you moan, I'm glad Seb's driving."

I touched his shoulder, "Why is that?"

"I'm not entirely sure I can contain myself in the backseat."

His hand gently squeezed my bottom, then slapped it playfully. My cheeks reddened at his touch, but I still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. We stepped outside the restaurant and a black car with tinted windows pulled up in front of us. The driver got out and my heart stopped. It wasn't Sebastian. Instead, it was a lanky man with dark, curly hair, and a blue scarf tucked neatly into his long coat. From the passenger side a short blonde man with bags under his eyes exited the car. My breath hitched in my throat.

Jim's eyes narrowed and darkened, "Mr. Holmes."

I swore. I was so close to having a much-desired, long-awaited, gentle shag with Jim. Now, if we got home after this encounter with Sherlock and John, I'd have Moriarty either wanting my already sore body, or throwing things all over the flat. Why did Sherlock have to make an appearance now?

Sherlock looked at his enemy. "My, my, Moriarty, I didn't think you were type to use the women's restroom for bedroom matters." He turned to me. "You really should be more careful about where you're biting. You could ruin the fibers of the jacket."

I was speechless. I'd seen Sherlock on the telly and read about him in the paper, but nothing prepared me for actually meeting him. He towered over me, and the way he just spouted his observations surprised me. I was used to Jim's remarks and observations. However, the cocktail of Sherlock's statements and smugness actually made me feel offended and embarrassed about myself.

"Well, Sherlock," chuckled Moriarty, "I was wondering when you would catch me with my pet. I've been extremely obvious as of late. Tell me, did you figure it out yourself, or did you get big brother to help you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Determining where and when a man like you would have reservations is merely child's play. Now if you don't mind, the three of us really should be going."

"Three of us?" I questioned. Moriarty's arm dropped from my waist. My heart was pounding so loud I was certain everyone could hear it. "Moriarty," I looked at the man beside me. His face was passive. "Jim, what's going on?"

"Now, Nora. Remember what I said? We're in public. Don't. Make. A. Fuss!"

Jim pushed me towards Sherlock and John. A pair of arms wrapped around my waist and lift me off the ground. A hand clamped over my mouth. Without a second thought, I bit down on the palm.

"Ah!" cried John. "She bit me! She actually bit me!"

Moriarty wiped his lips with a smirk. He tucked his hands deep into his pockets.

"No," I struggled, "No! Let go of me! Jim!"

"Oh, enough!" yelled Sherlock.

I felt a sharp prick on my neck and immediately felt numb. My body felt heavy as if my limbs were full of lead. I felt as though my head was in a fog and my mouth was full of cotton. The last thing I remember was seeing Moriarty, his head low, his eyes venomous, as he spoke five meager words:

_"Be a good girl, pet."_

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